


Threats & Flirting

by Infinite_Carnage



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Dancing, Demons, Dragons, F/M, Fantasy, Flirting, Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Romance, Tragedy, Writing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:06:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25293655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infinite_Carnage/pseuds/Infinite_Carnage
Summary: Once upon a time, Varric Tethras had been a simple Dwarf who dreamed of making a bit of coin and releasing a book or two along the way. These days he finds himself fighting against deranged templars, crazy mages, demons from the darkest edges of the void, and every madman from here to Tevinter. And all because of what should have been the biggest payday of his family's life.Still, he can't complain. After all, Varric still has his head attached to his neck, despite how badly the Seeker wanted to cut it off. Now he finds himself mixed together with seemingly the only group looking to bring order back to a world gone stark crazy. They weren't the kind of people he'd call friends, and he was certain the feeling was mutual. So imagine his surprise when the Inquisitor herself - a seven foot tall female qunari with more spells up her sleeves than he had arrows - took a strange shine to him.So join our lovable dwarf as he tries to answer a riddle that has confounded historians , philosophers and artists alike for hundreds of years; what exactly is the difference between qunari threats and qunari flirting?(Set in the world of Dragon Age. All characters and properties belong to Bioware.)
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Varric Tethras
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

The light from the sun danced off the luscious greenery that covered the Hinterlands. The dulled grey ruins stood out amongst nature's beauty, as the Qunari mage and her short companion walked past the crumbling structure and down another hill. There was plenty of elfroot about, and the Inquisitor wasted no time in plucking them from the ground. Not ten years prior, the area surrounding Redcliffe village had mostly been mud and dried up grass, but now the blight's effects had finally worn away and life returned to the area. It was beautiful, but Varric mused that it wasn't for him.

"There are people who actually do this for fun," he audibly scoffed as he nearly stepped into another pile of animal dung. He preferred hard stone, pavement, walls, and a roof over his head. Perhaps it was his Dwarven blood that made him feel that way, but he had never felt any real sorrow for not living with his people underground. No, he knew what the problem was. He missed Kirkwall, he missed the Hanged Man, he missed his friends, and most of all he missed Hawke.

Right about now, he would usually be relaxing in the tavern, the sounds of rowdy drunkenness, failed proposals and laughter filling the air. He'd be telling stories of Hawke's grand feats, which rarely needed any embellishment at all. Or, he'd be walking the streets of Kirkwall, all the way from Hightown to Darktown, making conversation with his friends along the way. His current company was muck less than talkative.

Only half a mile back, the Inquisitor had ordered Cassandra and Blackwall to split off and deal with a group of Red Templars, while herself and Varric went on ahead to scout the area. Varric wasn't actually sure why they had come out to the Hinterlands. At most they had collected some minor resources and dealt with a few pockets of resistance, but that was about it. However, he didn't question it, as in his own words, too much weird shit was going on for him to care. The one solace he took was that because of the quiet, he had a rare moment to collect his thoughts. However, he craved interaction, conversation, something that felt familiar to him.

Herah Adaar was a cold woman, like hard stone as Varric would put it. From the moment he met the Qunari, Varric knew she would be a difficult woman to read, but even after all this time he still couldn't quite figure her out. She seemed unmoving, unfeeling. Her facial expressions, or lack thereof, were set to a permanent state of disinterest at everything around her. Yet, everything she had done would prove otherwise. She had gone out of her way to help refugees and other civilians with the most menial of tasks, bringing food to eat, collecting herbs and other supplies. Varric recalled the time she tracked down a group of Templars who had killed an innocent man just so she could return the ring they stole from his body to his grieving widow. Her body language said one thing, but her actions said another.

Varric had only spoken to her a few times. They were usually questions about red lyrium, or Hawke's past. Thinking about it just made Varric realise how unlike Hawke, the Inquisitor was. Hawke was charismatic, cocky, and always had a one-liner at the ready; it only served to make him feel just that bit more homesick. So with nothing left to lose, he reached for the one thing that could perk himself right back up; the sound of his own voice.

"So, your Inquisitorialness, you never told me where we're headed." He heard her grunt as she continued to pick up herbs, not even turning to face him.

"We're finishing up in the area," said Herah. "There's meant to be a tear not too far ahead. I want it dealt with now so we can focus elsewhere." Her voice was deep, but there were still feminine tones hidden underneath. She stood up, her red, black and silver outfit shining brightly in the sun. It was easy to see why so many could easily accept her as the herald of Andraste. Despite her obviously not being human, she gave off a regal pose, one that fit her title perfectly.

"Fair enough, only a bare minimum of heroic acts today? I can live with that," Varric chuckled to himself. The Inquisitor remained motionless for a moment, staring up at the clouds above.

"You must not be used to this?" She said, turning to face the Dwarf.

"Pardon?"

"The outdoors, so much sky. My mercenary company once hired a Dwarf straight from Orzammar. When he got topside, he kept clutching the earth, claiming he'd fall upwards if he'd let go." Varric snickered to himself as he explained.

"Well, actually Inquisitor, I was born on the surface. Kirkwall has always been my home. Have I never told you? I'm the head of my family's merchant guild."

"Have you not been to the deep roads before? That's where you found the red lyrium, isn't it?" As she said that, Herah motioned for Varric to follow as they started to trek forward again.

"Yeah, don't remind me," he grumbled. "I don't make it a point to visit every other weekend for a reason. I hate the deep roads."

Silence fell between them for a moment. Varric stared at the ground, watching each of his footsteps crush the grass below, only for it to rise again as he stepped off of it. He knew he should have been keeping alert, Bianca at the ready, but he knew the Inquisitor had that covered. He settled himself in, ready for a long silence.

"... It isn't your fault you know." Varric looked up at the Inquisitor, confused as to what she was talking about. "I mean the red lyrium. You seem to blame yourself for it being on the surface, but I know for a fact that it makes no sense that one piece could produce all of this."

"Heh, you sure about that? That tiny piece did some pretty weird shit back home." Varric scrunched up his nose at the memory.

"How could it have produced any of the red lyrium at the temple of sacred ashes? That piece had never been there. It is likely that this form of lyrium has been steadily growing for some time, perhaps helped by an outside force, but certainly not you, Varric."

The way she said his name, Varric swore it was sympathetic. More of the woman inside of her rolled out as she said that last word. When his gaze met hers, he could see she still wore her piercing eyes and thin frown. The Dwarf rubbed the back of his head, letting out an insincere laugh to himself.

"Maybe you're right, but I've got to take some responsibility for all of this mess," Varric said through a sigh. He looked ahead, seeing nothing but trees and hills for miles. He took a small pleasure from the fact that he had managed to get her to speak to him, but now he felt like more of an ass than before. "All we wanted was to make a bit of gold. All Hawke wanted was to keep his sister safe from the Templars..." He reminisced with a sigh.

"Ah, yes, I remember," Herah interrupted. "When you went into the deep roads, she contracted the taint and was made into a grey warden. Not exactly a mercy from what I hear."

Varric went wide eyed and practically stopped in his tracks. He looked up at the inquisitor, trying to see if there was anything different, but as usual, she was impossible to read. Puzzled for a moment, he searched through his head for how the Inquisitor could have known that, and even when he drew the obvious conclusion, it seemed like an impossibility to him.

"You've read my book," he said in disbelief.

"Hmm? Yes, the tale of the champion, I've read it. I also read "Hard in Hightown." They were both amusing tales, though the latter disappointed me slightly." Varric didn't care about the criticism, he was still in shock that this marvel of a woman, this no-nonsense, battle hardened, spiritual leader, had read his stories. But still, he had to know exactly what was so underwhelming about his best selling series.

"What was disappointing about my other book?"

"From the title, I thought it was smut."

Varric burst out laughing. The sheer absurdity of the scenario had taken over his mind. He clutched his stomach, barely regaining his composure.

"So, the Inquisitor has a dirty side to her?" Varric said, pointing upwards at her. Herah turned her head to look down at him; her eyes squinted with a noticeable frown.

"Is that a problem?" She said with a predatory growl.

"Oh no. Heh, just excuse me as bask in my own smugness."

Herah rolled her eyes as silence fell between the two again. The only sounds that could be heard were the rustling of trees and the birds chirping above them. For a moment, just a moment, it felt like the good old days.

"Alright then, Dwarf," said Herah, snapping Varric back to reality. "You're a storyteller. Amuse me then; tell me a story."

Varric rubbed his hands together and a large grin spread on his lips.

"Alright then Inquisitor, how about this one? Hawke was walking around Hightown one day when he was stopped by a group of armed Antivan's. They asked Hawke, because of his reputation of course, for his help in tracking down this "deadly killer"..."

* * *

Over the next half an hour, Varric regaled the Inquisitor with adventures and jokes as they made their way to the rendezvous point. They arrived in a small clearing, which was perfect for setting up camp. As they waited for Cassandra and Blackwall to return, Varric continued on as the Inquisitor listened patiently. Varric wasn't even sure if Herah was enjoying his tales; his mood was simply too positive to care. Her reactions varied from nods to grunts as she stood there listening to the Dwarf prattle on about anything that came to his mind.

Cassandra and Blackwell were close by as Varric was finishing his final joke. He had the Inquisitor's full attention as he delivered the punchline.

"... So I said, "Oh, but ze Hanged Man ees so filthy!" And Broody just rolls his eyes and sneers, "it IS filthy."" Varric let out a hearty laugh at his own joke, wiping a fake tear from his eye. "It was priceless! You should have seen Hawke's fac-"

As Varric went to finish his sentence, he gazed up at the Inquisitor who was not laughing, but rather, she was wearing a familiar sneer on her face. The Dwarf swallowed the lump that had suddenly welled up in his throat, unsure of what to say next. A single bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. He nervously tapped his fingers together in order to keep his nerves in check as the much larger woman glared down at him. It was days like these when he cursed his stubby legs.

"... I, ah. Forgive me, Madam Inquisitor, but... I haven't offended, have I?" Varric curled his hands together, and presented the most convincing smile he could muster.

"..."

"..."

"That was a hilarious story," said the Inquisitor with a small smile. She rested her hands on her hips as Cassandra and Blackwall approached. Varric gingerly let down his guard, but raised his hands in a surrendering position when the Inquisitor pointed at him.

"You are a funny Dwarf," she said. Herah then bopped the Dwarf on the nose and then turned to leave. A very confused Varric lowered his arms, and just before the Inquisitor went out of earshot, he heard her say, "I like you."

The Inquisitor spotted some more elfroot, and went off to collect it. In the meantime, Varric's face suddenly felt a little warm. Although his arms had lowered, he kept the hands pointing upwards as he tried to figure out exactly what had happened. Blackwall walked off to follow Hadar, but Cassandra stepped behind Varric, her arms folded across her chest.

"Varric? Are you well?" Cassandra had not heard what was said between the Dwarf and the Qunari, but it seemed to leave Varric in a statue like state. "Why are you blushing?"

"Oh, I'm just trying to figure out the difference between Qunari and threats and Qunari flirting," Varric managed to get out. "Don't mind me, Seeker."


	2. Chapter 2

The tavern was completely filled to the brim today. This wasn't an unusual sight in Skyhold, but having the entirety of the Inquisitor's inner circle joining the merriment, now that was far rarer indeed. Outside of Vivienne and Solas of course, as they found the tavern to be beneath them, but it certainly didn't stop the others from enjoying themselves.

Iron Bull was surrounded by his chargers, laughing and drinking as they always did when there was no work to be had. Dorian was amusing himself watching his opponent, Sera, try to figure how chess worked. Blackwall and Cole remained quiet, watching the game with intrigue. Then there had been Herah. One might assume that finding the Herald of Andraste drinking the swill of commoners would be an impossibility, but this was not so. Herah could and would outdrink the very best of them, and while she personally was never a fan of crowded places, she had made an effort to visit her companions since the destruction of Haven. She sat at the bar along with Cassandra. The two had always gotten on well, conversing on battle strategies and their mutual backgrounds. They had strong respect for one another, and a beautiful friendship had slowly formed over time, despite their rocky introduction.

However, the floorboards creaked and groaned around the largest collection of people in the tavern, all centred on one Dwarf. Varric Tethras was sat on a chair on top of a table. Above him was a lit torch that shone down and enveloped the Dwarf in light. All these people had gathered to listen to the one thing that Varric did best; tell stories. Even if the rest of the inner circle didn't look like they were listening, that couldn't have been farther from the truth. Bull had made sure they sat down right next to Varric's crowd, Sera and Dorian followed suit, also allowing Cole and Blackwall to listen in as well. The Inquisitor and Cassandra were right across from the storyteller, more focusing on him than their own conversation.

Sadly, Varric was having a difficult time today. It didn't seem like it to the crowd because as far as they were aware, the Dwarf was on regular form. Varric was good at covering his nerves when he wanted to, years of playing wicked grace and working with other members of the merchants guild taught him this. He was struggling more than usual though, and it was beginning to get under his skin.

It wasn't the other sounds of the tavern; Varric could easily tune that out if he wished. It wasn't how warm it was with all these people in one place. No, his problem came from one woman - or more specifically - one Qunari. Herah Adaar; the Inquisitor. Every time he looked at her the words that would flow like poetry from his lips came to a screeching halt. His heartbeat quickened as his brain cried out for him to do something, but what that was, Varric just couldn't find an answer. Life always seemed so much simpler in his stories.

It had been a very difficult couple of weeks since that fateful conversion with Herah in the Hinterlands. Even now, Varric couldn't be sure exactly what the Inquisitor had meant when she said _'I like you.'_ To Varric, it meant one of three things. Coming from a Qunari, it was likely a veiled threat of some kind. From anyone else, it meant exactly how it sounded; she liked him as a friend. But there was one more meaning that could be deduced from that phrase.

 _"What if she meant..."_ thought Varric, his mind wandering from what he was doing again. _"Shit, did it again."_ Varric cleared his throat, and got on with his story.

Many months before that talk, it had been decided the Inquisition needed to seek aid from either the rebel mages or the Templars. Unsurprisingly, Herah decided to go to the mages, but what was surprising was that instead of conscripting the mages and forcing them to work for her, she had offered to be partners. They would work together freely; despite what the mages had done prior to their joining. This earned a lot of disapproval from certain members of the Inquisition, but she hadn't cared. Varric remembered exactly what she had said when Cullen had confronted her back at Haven.

_"You say they had blown their chance, Cullen, when the matter is they had never really been given a proper chance in the first place. This IS their chance. This is their chance to do something good, and show the world that mages aren't just simply something that should be locked away. They are people. Or do you intend to lock me up as well, Captain?"_

Cullen had been nursing his pride for a while after that. Shortly thereafter, the Inquisitor had managed to close the giant hole in the sky, but the celebration didn't last. They had been attacked by an old face that Varric never wanted to see again: Corypheus. Haven was destroyed in the ensuing chaos, but eventually, the Inquisition had moved to Skyhold, named Herah as the Inquisitor and started to rebuild the fortress. Shortly after that was when the fateful day occurred.

"Shit," Varric cursed under his breath. He had stopped talking again, and everyone was staring up at him in anticipation. He found a small comfort in the fact that he had stopped at a particularly crucial moment, making it look like he was building tension, but he knew what the problem was. He had met her eyes again across the room. _"Andraste's tits, what's gotten into me?"_

"Are you alright, Varric?"

A familiar voice spoke softly behind the storyteller, gently placing a gloved hand on his shoulder. The Dwarf smiled and turned his head to be greeted by large hazelnut eyes. The man behind him had a large beard and had fashioned his black hair into cornrows, tied up into a ponytail at the back. He had dark brown skin, and wore a warm smile that could easily light up a room.

"Yeah, I'm good, Hawke." Varric patted the hand that Hawke had rested on the Dwarf's shoulder, and turned to face his audience. "Show's over folks... for today. Come back tomorrow for the exciting conclusion."

A few groans came from the crowd but they quickly dispersed. Varric got off from the chair and Hawke placed it next to the table they were sat at. The brown décor of the room reminded Hawke and Varric of the Hanged Man, but both of them noted the place was far too clean and tidy for their taste. The two sat close to one another asHawke placed down a mug of mead for his friend.

"So, Varric. How shall we do this then?" Hawke said while taking a swig of his own.

"Do what, Hawke?"

"Do you plan on creating a grand tale to cover yourself, or are you actually going to tell me what's bothering you?"

Varric let out a snort as he turned to his drink. He knew Hawke was just concerned, but it wasn't something he felt comfortable talking about right now, not even to an old friend.

"Oh? The silent treatment? Well that's a new one," Hawke muttered. Varric pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh.

"I'm just not feeling it today, that's all. Don't you have a city to rebuild or something?"

"I could say the same for you." The two shared a short, awkward laugh to themselves. Varric had yet to take a drink from his mead, and Hawke had noticed. The Champion of Kirkwall's eyes drifted over to his right, and then it struck him.

"It wouldn't have anything to do with a certain someone standing at the bar right now, would it?"

Varric's eyes followed Hawke's till he reached Cassandra. When the group had reached Skyhold, Varric knew he could no longer put off the inevitable. With Corypheus in the mix, he had to contact Hawke straight away. As soon as he arrived, Cassandra had been furious. When Cassandra's glare met his eyes across the room, it brought the memory back in full...

* * *

_"You knew where Hawke was all along!"_

_A fire burned in her eyes as she stared down the Dwarf. She was clutching both sides of the v in his jacket, pulling at his skin in the process. Her tone was harsher than usual, and her intent was more than clear to Varric. He wasn't going to leave the room in one piece._

_Where normally he would make a joke or spin a tale to dodge the seeker's wrath, today, Varric was ready for a fight. He had been locked up and interrogated for days by this woman who had offered no apology for her actions. Here she was now, ready to finally get to the physical part of the interrogation. Varric knew she had not succumbed to such tactics only because he had 'cooperated' with her, but the gloves were off now. This time, he was gonna give her a piece of his mind._

_Varric, with all his strength, pushed his arms forward into Cassandra's shoulders and pushed her off of him. "You're damned right I did!" Varric shouted back at her. He was starting to find his own adrenaline kicking in. His hands balled into fists, waiting to see what the seeker would do next._

_"You conniving little shit!" Varric quickly lost his nerve when the much taller Cassandra geared up to strike a blow at his skull. As she reeled back, Varric quickly saw an opening and as Cassandra flung her fist forward, Varric ducked under it and jogged to the other side of the room and hid behind a table._

_"You kidnapped me!" He fired straight back. "You interrogated me! What did you expect?"_

_As Cassandra zeroed in on him again, Varric suddenly felt a presence appear beside him._

_"Hey! Enough!" The booming voice of the Inquisitor herself came from the top of the stairs, and she sounded angrier than usual. She marched between the two of them before they could do anything else. Varric was relieved for the distraction, but Cassandra turned to her in shock._

_"You're taking his side?" She said with an almost horrified expression._

_"I said enough!" The Inquisitor responded with finality._

_Varric quickly made his way to the Inquisitor's side, if only to avoid another attack from the woman across from him. Cassandra slinked over to the Qunari's other side. Herah looked at Cassandra; she saw her eyebrows were furrowed and hands balled up, desperately trying to avoid charging at Varric right there and then._

_"We needed someone to lead this Inquisition," Cassandra said more calmly, but her voice was still laced with venom. Although she was talking to Herah, the seeker switched her focus to Varric again. "First, Leliana and I searched for the Hero of Ferelden, but she had vanished. Then we searched for Hawke, but he was gone, too. We thought it all connected, but no." Cassandra then addressed the Dwarf. "It was just you. You kept him from us."_

_"The Inquisition has a leader." Varric motioned to Herah, trying to mount any defence for himself._

_"Hawke would have been at the conclave! If anyone could have saved most holy..."_

_The Inquisitor cut in as she finally said something. "Varric's not responsible for what happened at the Conclave."_

_Varric felt relief wash over him for a moment before returning to the argument. "I was protecting my friend," he said defiantly._

_"Varric is a liar, Inquisitor. A snake." Cassandra said, her venom reaching its peak. Those words stung Varric, more than he thought they ever could. "Even after the conclave, when we needed Hawke most, Varric kept him secret."_

_"He's with us now. We're on the same side!" Varric fired back._

_"We all know whose side you're on, Varric. It will never be the Inquisition's."_

_"Attacking him now won't help us, Cassandra," Herah argued._

_"Exactly!" Varric agreed with a smile. The Inquisitor wasn't done when she pointed at the Dwarf._

_"And you better not be keeping anything else from us," she said with a glare of her own._

_Varric let out a small sigh. "I understand," he said glumly._

_Both the Qunari and the Dwarf looked over to Cassandra. The anger on the seekers face had disappeared and now she looked sad. "No, sad wasn't the right word," Varric thought. "She looked tired." Cassandra turned around and walked over to the nearest table. She bent down and rested her arms on it, keeping them crossed as she did so. She was looking at nothing in particular; she may as well have been gazing into space._

_"I must not think of what could have been," she said softly to herself. "We have so much at stake." The venom had been drained from her, and now the seeker felt empty. No rage, no fire, just an empty pit of self-pity. "Go, Varric. Just... go."_

_The Inquisitor looked at Varric and with her head she motioned him towards the stairs. Varric gave them both a look before heading to the top step. As he reached it, he paused for a moment and then turned to Cassandra who was still gazing off into the distance._

_"You know what I think? If Hawke had been at that temple, he'd be dead too. You people have done enough to him." As he walked downstairs, he heard Cassandra say one last thing in the distance._

_"I... believed him."_

* * *

Believe it or not, Varric had come to regret his last statement. To him it was like kicking the seeker while she was down. It felt dirty, unnecessary. Suddenly, Varric saw a gloved hand snap its fingers in front of his face. He sharply turned to find Hawke looking at him with a bemused face.

"This is really bothering you, huh?" Hawke said a little quieter so no one could hear.

"It's not who you think it is... well, not completely." Varric looked over to the Inquisitor, who was still conversing with Cassandra. He noticed her large lips, her vivid yellow eyes, the way her white hair weaved around her neck. He wondered why he had only noticed these things now, when they had been there the whole time. Why was he even thinking like this?

"I can see why you're so bothered about the seeker. I mean, didn't she bring you here? You said something about torture as I recall."

"She isn't that bad. Look, she's been through some rough shit. Yeah, she could have just told me what was going on, but I doubt I would have told her where you were anyway."

The pair of them took simultaneous swigs of their respectives drinks, savouring the bitter taste of the mead as it reached their lips. The two stared across the bar while Hawke let out a long and shallow sigh.

"I never said thanks you know," said Hawke.

"Thanks? For what?" Varric raised an eyebrow.

"For keeping where I was a secret. For better or worse, you may have saved my life." Hawke placed his large hand on Varric's shoulder again. "It's good to know you're still looking out for me."

Varric laughed and brushed Hawke's hand off his shoulder. "Shit, Hawke, don't make a dwarf cry. I'd lose my chest hair from the excess of femininity." The two laughed again and drank, enjoying the company that had been long since absent from their lives. The moment was cut short when Varric noticed the Inquisitor approaching. She walked in strides, maintaining her confident posture as she reached the table.

"Varric, Champion, I would like a word," she said calmly. Hawke stood up while Varric remained sitting, mug in hand. "I understand that you will be leaving for Crestwood today?" She addressed Hawke.

"Wait, what?" Varric sat up straight when he heard this.

"That's right," confirmed Hawke. "I'll try and find my contact and send word to your scout once I've confirmed he's there. Just so the trip isn't entirely worthless." Hawke turned to his friend. "I'm sorry Varric, I was about to tell you. This was all a bit last minute and I'm heading off tonight." He downed the rest of his mead, burping in his hand. "I best start getting ready. I'll see you both in Crestwood." Hawke nodded at the pair of them - patted Varric on the shoulder - and walked out the tavern door, the last thing the Dwarf saw was Hawke's dreads blowing in the wind.

Varric couldn't help but feel a bit put out by the abrupt departure. He knew he'd see Hawke again soon, but it didn't stop the awkward feeling from plaguing him. As he nursed his drink, he heard the chair opposite him move, and when he looked up, he saw Herah sit down in front of him. She looked at him as she usually did, with not an ounce of emotion, but her voice was softer than usual.

"I didn't interrupt anything, did I?" She asked him.

Varric shook his head. "No, it's fine. We were just catching up. I suppose he was about to leave anyway." Herah let out a small 'hmm' in acknowledgment. Varric noticed Hawke had brought a third cup which was still filled up. He gently pushed it towards the Inquisitor with a smile. She stared at it for a moment and Varric wondered if he had offended her, but before he could react, she reached out for the mug and took it in her hand.

"Thank you," she said simply and took a swig. Varric could see the skin covering her throat move as she chugged down the drink. She kept it up until the mugs contents were empty and she slammed it down on the table. Varric barely registered what he saw, the only response he could give was a confused expression. The two were silent for a moment before Herah shrugged and said "What? I worked for mercenaries remember? Did you really think I couldn't handle my drink?"

"Well you continue to surprise me, Inquisitor," Varric admitted with a laugh. "I guess I've got to admit, when I look at you; I keep seeing the Herald of Andraste."

"I am the Herald," Herah said, cocking her head to the side.

"I mean the symbol. People picture you as this pinnacle of goodness. Chugging contests don't usually fit that ideal." Herah let out a small laugh and a smile reached her lips. Varric witnessed a rare moment of emotion from her. He felt something in his chest, something he had not felt in a long time.

"I haven't felt that since..." Varric's brain was taken back to Herah as she return to her neutral expression.

"So, the reason I wanted to speak with you," she brought up. Varric completely forgot what he was thinking about when those yellow eyes met his own. "There's something bothering you," she addressed bluntly.

"Oh? Do enlighten me," Varric said with a smirk and rested his head on his arm propped up on the table.

"I noticed it when you were telling your story," she said simply. Varric visibly stiffened at this, surprised that the Inquisitor had noticed while no one else had. Herah gauged his reaction and continued. "It was those pauses you see. You have this dramatic flair, but the words from your lips didn't sound as smooth as they usually did. It's hard to explain honesty, but when you're spinning your tales, I usually get lost in the world you create. This time though, I did not. Because of those pauses, I thought something might be distracting you."

Varric could only scratch the back of his head as he struggled to find a response. Again, when he looked at her, his words failed to come out like they usually would. He was worried she would figure out it was because of her, which was the last thing he needed.

"Well, you see..." Varric felt a hand gently hold his own. He was shocked at the Inquisitors soft touch, and it stopped him dead in his tracks. She gently stroked his thumb with hers to relax him, but it did not give the reaction she expected.

"I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable," she said. "I just wanted to make sure you were well." She released his hand and Varric cleared his throat.

"Oh I'm fine, you're Inquistorness. No need to worry about little old me," he said with his most convincing smile.

"Excellent," Herah said. "I would like you to accompany us to Crestwood when we leave for it. I know you and Hawke are close and I'd like to bring along someone he knows."

"Of course. I'm happy to help."

The Inquisitor gave the tiniest of smiles as she stood up and looked towards the door. Varric thought that was the end of it, but the Inquisitor turned to him again. "Are you sure you are fine?" A hint of concern sneaked through her voice.

"Relax, Inquisitor, I'll be a hundred percent by the time we leave." Varric lifted his head to take another swig of his mead. But when he lowered it back down, his face was mere centimeters away from Herah. She was leaning on the table with her arms crossed. The pair of them were nose to nose now, gazing at one another. Varric didn't dare move a muscle, too shocked to even register what was happening.

"I always expect you to be at one hundred percent, Varric." Herah had said his name so softly that time, it was barely audible to the Dwarf, but he had certainly picked it up. The Inquisitor then took her finger and bopped him on the nose again. Without another word she stood up, turned around, and strode out of the tavern.

 _"Did... what did... did she..."_ Varric was still in shock and his brain could not function after what had happened... again. Thankfully for him, no one had seen what had just occurred. Except for one other Qunari in the tavern. Out of the corner of his eye, Varric could see the Iron Bull looking straight at him with the biggest shit-eating grin he had ever seen.


	3. Chapter 3

The fire crackled and sparked as the Dwarf found himself gazing into it. He picked up his poker and prodded a stray log, knocking it into the bulk of the flame. Varric let out a sigh, he had been plagued with a nagging boredom the entire day. He wanted to keep his hands busy and teased the idea of penning something to paper, but he just couldn’t find the energy today. He sighed again and cursed under his breath.

He knew what was wrong. It was the same thing that had been bothering him for days now. The Inquisitor was still on his mind. A single quote would ring in Varric’s ear everytime he started to think about his predicament; there is nothing more frustrating than not knowing. Varric was experiencing that frustration first hand, but what didn’t help was that he was usually so much better at this.

Varric would be lying if he said he hadn’t bedded his fair share of women over the years. Even though he felt his heart belonged to only one, she was far beyond his reach, so he was content with the occasional relief. He knew if anyone like Cassandra had heard him say that out loud he would receive an earful, but he didn’t care right now. Most of them were Dwarven women, but he had his fair share of humans and even several elves. That was something he made sure never to bring up in front of Daisy. But… a Qunari? The idea was so absurd to him, especially after all he had seen of the race, but strangely enough, when he thought Herah, the idea didn’t seem so unpleasant.

He was aware that the Qunari were more of a religion than a race at this point. He also knew that Herah Adaar did not grow up following the Qun. Still, it was hard not to associate her with the following. Iron Bull once asked if she ever had any interest in joining, but she admitted she had none whatsoever. She was content with where she was in life, wasn’t that in some way what the Qun was all about? Bull had just sort of grunted and dropped the subject.

Speaking of the devil, Varric heard heavy footsteps approach him that he knew could only belong to one Qunari, the Iron Bull. Varric turned around to take in the grand hall. It was here that the Inquisitor’s throne rested, where she would pass judgement on those who were brought to have their fates decided by her. It was the evening now so the torches had been lit and the nobles had retreated to their rooms in the castle. Varric had set up shop here because he liked the atmosphere, and the Inquisitor tended to put on a show when deciding the fates of others. He had his own quarters though for sleeping, he just simply liked to write his stories in this atmosphere.

Bull strode towards Varric with a grin on his face. His arms hung limp and as usual he had opted to not wear a shirt, despite Josephine’s protests. He waved at the Dwarf as he closed the gap between them. “Hey, Varric, mind if we talk?”

“Sure, Tiny, what can I do for ya?” Asked Varric. He motioned for Bull to join him by his desk and the two stood awkwardly beside it. Varric didn’t obviously show it, but he knew with Bull’s training, he could tell that Varric was uncomfortable. Bull had just returned from a trip with the Inquisitor, and within minutes of her return she had received a letter from Hawke stating that his contact was still in Crestwood. That meant they would be leaving in the morning. As far as Varric was aware, Cole and Blackwall would also be going on the trip, so why was Bull here?

Varric thought back to the look the giant gave him after Herah had left the tavern. That knowing grin was burned into Varric’s memory like a brand he couldn’t heal over. “So, you know the Boss will want you for the mission tomorrow?” Bull said after a moment of the two just standing there in silence.

“Oh, sure, but I get the feeling you didn’t just come by to give me an update.” Varric crossed his arms and looked up at Bull with a tired smile.

“Heh, you catch on quick.” Bull looked away for a moment, checking each end of the hall. They were the only two people in the building right now, since the guards were on break. Bull turned back to Varric and said “I’ve seen the signs.”

“This isn’t gonna be some conspiracy shit, is it? I get enough of that in my books… and real life now that I think about it.”

“No, we both know what we’re talking about here.” Bull took another quick look around. “The Boss… she’s difficult to read, isn’t she? I hate to say this, but you remember me telling you about all that training the Ben-Hasarath receive in order to read people, right?” Varric gave him a curt nod. “Well the thing is even with all of that, I still can’t figure this woman out. Not completely anyway.”

Varric put a finger to his chin, stroking the beard he would have if he bothered to grow it out. The conversion hadn’t taken the turn he expected, but it was certainly leading somewhere promising. “So, what have you figured out?” He asked.

“She’s not as cold as she seems to be. I’m sure you figured that out at least. On the outside, she’s like stone. Hard, tough, cold. Inside though, she’s something else. It’s soft in there; like velvet. It’s warm, and lightly trickles out every time she makes a choice. Her actions show exactly who she really is deep down.”

Varric did know this to be true, but he allowed Bull to continue without interruption. “I don’t know why she doesn’t emote facially like most; maybe she’s seen too many fights? I’ve known a couple of guys like that. The way she fights is very aggressive, especially for a mage. She’ll actually direct forces towards her, and chip them down as they approach. Get too close, and you meet a fireball or the staffs tip through your eye. Very rarely saw any Vint fight like that, and most didn’t last long. Again though, she’s like stone. Despite the light armour, she can take a hit and deal twice the damage back at the target.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Despite his curiosity being somewhat quenched, Varric wanted Bull to get to the point of all this.

“I know you’ve met Qunari. ‘Real’ Qunari. That isn’t a shot on the boss; I respect her more than most ‘real’ Qunari, and certainly more than any Tal-Vashoth I’ve ever met…”

“That’s mostly because you’ve smashed their head in before they could even say hello,” Varric said with a laugh. Bull wasn’t fazed by the morbid joke; he actually let out a chuckle himself.

“My point is that I can’t figure out what drives her. The core detail about anyone is what drives them to do what they do. The Tal-Vashoth don’t have that, they abandon everything to run like savages and do whatever they please. She isn’t like that. Maybe it’s because she grew up here? Maybe because her folks raised her well? I’ve heard her speak fondly of them. The biggest mystery, though, is her fascination with you.” Bull pointed directly at Varric, causing the Dwarf to shuffle his feet nervously.

“I’ve seen how she looks at you, how you’ve looked at her. I think there might be something there…”

“You’ve been reading too many books,” Varric said dismissively. “She just likes my stories, same as anyone else. You’re reading too much into something that isn’t there.”

For a moment, Varric wondered who he was trying to convince: Iron Bull, or himself. He shook his head and walked around to his desk. Sitting down, he tried to ignore the Qunari. He switched his focus to some paperwork for the guild that he had been putting off for a while. Bull did not leave though, instead, he knelt down in front of the Dwarf’s desk so they were eye level and spoke in a hushed whisper.

“Maybe you’re right. Perhaps it’s all in my head. I wonder though, what if it isn’t? What if she has you in her sights?”

Varric stopped scribbling and met Iron Bull’s eyes. He sat back and glared slightly, trying to ascertain exactly what the Qunari was implying. “What are you getting at?”

“I can see it now. Your eyes meet. Maybe it’s in the tavern, maybe this very hall, but they lock across the room. There’s something different this time though. Instead of cold, empty eyes there’s a fire, a hunger pointed straight at you. Before you can react, she’s grabbed you and dragged you back to her quarters. She practically throws you onto the bed and climbs on top of you so you can’t escape. You squirm like a caged animal but it does no good. She smiles at you like a predator would her prey. She glides her hands through your chest hair, enjoying every moment of it. Then she lowers her head to your ear, grabs the v of your jacket and growls your name. Then, she _owns_ you.”

Varric felt a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead as he wondered when it got so hot in here. His heartbeat raced to dangerous levels as he dropped the pen and cleared his throat uncomfortably. His brain was nothing more than deadweight floating inside his skull. It was so dead in fact, the funeral had already taken place and they were preparing to cremate the body. Whatever he did now was purely on instinct. He nervously tapped the table as Bull slowly stood up and looked down at Varric with a smile.

“But you’re probably right,” said the Qunari. “She’s probably just being friendly. _Real_ friendly. See you later Varric, good luck with tomorrow.” Just like that, the Iron Bull turned around and strode back out of the hall.

For a moment, Varric was relieved he was all alone. The relief didn’t last long though when he realised exactly what he felt. He wasn’t afraid, in a twisted way, he wanted it. What he did know of the Inquisitor so far was that she would never do anything like that… probably. He wasn’t sure how he felt that Bull’s fantasies were technically non-consensual. Now though, Varric knew. As childish as it sounded, he felt something for the Inquisitor.

He wouldn’t call it love, but then again, did he even really know what love was. He had written romances before, but he often felt it was the weakest part of his stories. There was Bianca, but could he call what he felt for her love anymore? It had been a long time, in some ways, he exhibited borderline obsession. He was pretty sure naming an inanimate object after her and treating it like a person wasn’t healthy.

There was something about Herah though. He wanted to get to know her more. What made her tick? What made her break out that rare laugh? What caused her to show that priceless smile? The rarity of her emotions made her rare few that much more precious to Varric. Getting her to make any positive reaction, no matter how small, caused his heart to ache. Who was this woman and what in the maker was she doing to him?

Varric’s brain was resuscitated from its comatose state and the Dwarf was suddenly aware that he was mindlessly staring at the table. He chose not to move though out of fear it would knock his mind unconscious again. He snorted, lightly blowing a stray piece of paper on his desk. He sighed and leant over to pick up the offending sheet of white. Just as he did so, he heard the hall door creek open, followed by lighter footsteps. He sighed again and decided to ignore it. Against his better judgement he returned to the blasted paperwork, but he quickly noticed the footsteps were drawing closer and closer.

_“Shit, not now_ , _”_ was all that went through his skull. He’d never thought he’d pass up an opportunity to hear his own voice but there was a first for everything he supposed. He quickened the pace of his writing, hoping to appear very busy, but it didn’t deter the person walking. As they walked to the edge of his desk, Varric sighed and said “I’m a little busy right now. Can this wait till tomorrow?”

“I see. I’m sorry for disturbing you, Varric.” Varric froze. He recognised that monotone voice anywhere, but more importantly, there was only one person who said his name like that. He looked up to see Herah turning around and with little conscious thought, leapt up from his chair and called out to her.

“Wait a minute,” Varric said, his voice betraying how desperate he sounded. Herah turned quickly to face him.

“Is something wrong?” Her voice betrayed her as well, showing more concern than she ordinarily would.

Varric kicked his brain back to life and nearly jumped over his desk with the sudden surge of adrenaline that coursed through his veins. He took a sharp intake of breath and stepped out from his desk. “Nothing’s wrong, I’m just a little tired,” Varric said with a forced laugh. “My head just isn’t completely with me right now; I thought you were someone else.”

“Is someone giving you trouble?” Herah asked earnestly. A strand of white hair fell out of place and across her face. She blew the follicle upward, hoping to knock it back into place, but to no avail. Something about that action made the Dwarf’s heartbeat race a little.

“No, just didn’t expect company at this time of night.” Varric cleared his throat and put his composure back on. At times he thought he could give the Orlesian court a run for its money with how often he had to put on a facade. “I’ve got a minute if you need something.” 

“I shall get to the point then,” Herah said as she walked straight up to Varric. The Dwarf often forgot how tall she was, but maker, she was huge. A sly thought crossed Varric’s mind that there was just a lot more woman to love. He grinned at that, but was careful not to give too much away. “You and I are both aware of the discourse between you and Cassandra.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Varric said through a sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose as the thought alone could give him a headache at times. “Every time she trains lately I swear she keeps visualising those dummies with my head.”

“You don’t all have to like each other, and maker knows some of you have made that abundantly clear,” the Inquisitor remarked with a roll of her eyes. “Still, at the very least I need to know you will all work together when the time comes. So, we need to ease the tension between you two.”

The way she talked to him was different now. There was still an authoritative tone laced between her words, but she was also more casual with her language, even if it was ever so slight. Varric mused that if her interest was genuine, maybe she was simply feeling more comfortable around him. The Dwarf couldn’t begin to guess if it was true though.

“Alright, I take it you have a plan?” Varric asked with a smirk.

“Perhaps more of a suggestion,” the Inquisitor said, smirking back. “Cassandra is waiting for the next issue of “Swords and Shields”.” 

Varric dared not move a muscle as he tried his hardest to process what was just said. He repeated it back slowly in his head, but he was certain that he couldn’t have misheard her. At the same time though, it seemed totally impossible. Herah was rarely the type to make jokes, yet she had surprised him on numerous occasions already. He found himself once more questioning how much he actually knew about the Qunari.

“I must have heard that wrong,” said Varric. “It sounded like you just said that Cassandra read my books.”

“She’s a pretty big fan, in fact,” the Inquisitor replied, barely containing a smile. It was so rare to see this sight. The inquisitor with such a large grin, well, large for her at least, and lasting as long as it did. Varric wasn’t sure if he was smiling out of smug satisfaction for finding a fan in Cassandra, or if it was from seeing Herah so happy.

“Are we talking about the same Cassandra?” He asked. “Tall, grumpy seeker? Likes stabbing things?” Varric paused for a second as a realisation came to him. “Wait, did you say the romance serial? She’ll be waiting for a while, then. I haven’t finished it and I wasn’t planning to. That book is easily the worst I’ve ever written. The last issue barely sold enough to pay for the ink.”

Varric felt a little grumpy when he recalled being told how much the story had actually sold. He uncrossed his arms and let them hang loose, feeling more lax in the situation. He could see the strand of hair still bothering Herah who finally pulled it back into place with her hand, only for it to fall down again. His heartbeat quickened once more. She ignored it and returned to the conversation.

“Well, Cassandra seems hooked on it.”

“And I thought a hole in the sky was the weirdest thing that could happen. So… you want me to finish writing the latest issue of my worst serial; for Cassandra.” The Inquisitor gave him a curt nod. “That’s such a terrible idea, I have to do it.” The excitement was building in Varric. He hadn’t felt like this with one of his stories for so long. “On one condition: I get to be there when you give her the book.”

The Inquisitor didn’t even have to think about it. “You’ve got a deal.” Before Varric could say another word, he felt the long fingernail of the Qunari under his nose. It softly scratched the bridge between his nostrils, and gently lifted his head upward so he was looking straight at her. The all too familiar feeling was back as her face fixed into a neutral expression. “I’m very grateful for you doing this Varric. _Very_ grateful indeed.” She bopped him on the nose and turned to leave. “I will see you in the morning, Varric,” she said as she departed. 

Varric swore she swayed her hips more than usual as she went for the door. The whole way he couldn’t take his eyes off of her as his mouth was left agape. He knew he had to get some sleep, but Varric found his feet leading him to his desk instead. Before he knew why, he started on the rest of the book. He wouldn’t be able to finish tonight, but he could at the very least get started before heading to Crestwood.

In that moment another question came to Varric. Was he really writing this book to see the reaction of the Seeker? Or was he writing it to see Herah happy? This time he knew the answer. As he wrote, he began to whistle a familiar tune. One that he had saved for only one dwarf close to him, but now, it was meant for another.


	4. Chapter 4

One day, in the near future, Varric would come to the point in his memoirs where he would have to describe the vicinity of the area known as Crestwood. And as he would sit in his chair, leaning back as he let the memory come back to him, he would think of only a single word that could accurately describe it; miserable. It wasn’t even the rotting dead that soured his mood, but the rain instead. Varric hated rain. His clothes were damp and covered in mud as they trenched through the countryside. It was an experience he had told himself time again and again he would just simply have to adjust too, but he just couldn’t take to it.

He imagined that not too long ago, this place was once quite pretty. Like all things though, time had been unkind. The dark clouds prevented the sun from touching the grass below, and what was once a small town was now flooded underwater. Above that was a giant rift that stuck out as a bad omen to the Dwarf. At the very least they should have been moving to some place dryer than this, but unfortunately for him, the Inquisitor had spotted some elfroot.

“Maker’s balls…” Blackwall grumbled to himself, just loud enough for Varric and Cole to hear.

The three of them watched as the Inquisitor attempted to scale a cliff by continuous jumping. It had mixed results. Varric had to admit that she was making surprising progress, but it often felt like she was moving two-steps forward, one-step backwards. Blackwall continued to look on, occasionally shaking his head at the display. Cole seemed not to care that much as to what was happening and kept his gaze on the rift over the flooded water.

_ “Well, at least the view is pleasant,” _ Varric thought with a grin. Climbing up the rock face had left a particular sight open for Varric to look at from below. Although due to his height and often following Herah around anyway, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t had the opportunity before to take a peek. A part of him was a little concerned though. Whenever he was around the woman, Varric’s brain had trouble focusing on anything, but seeing her now in a position that only took one false step to cause serious injury left him unsure of what to do. He considered trying to convince her to come down, but he knew she would just brush him off and keep going anyway. Varric felt useless and it surprised him that he was so bothered by that.

Not that he enjoyed being useless to anyone, and if anyone were to say it to his face he would argue the point as much as possible, it was just that the benefit of being useless was that one didn’t attract much attention. Varric was just a businessman and storyteller in the eyes of most. When spies and mercenaries came looking for recruits or help, he often passed under their radar with the assumption he was just another Dwarf. His closest friends knew his true worth in a fight, and he was content with that. Though considering the current situation before him, he’d gladly do anything just to be of help to the Inquisitor, no matter what she needed doing.

“I’m sorry, my lady, but we should really consider heading off now to meet the Warden contact!” Blackwall called out to her as loud as he could, and got the Inquisitor to pause where she was.

“I’m nearly there, damn it,” she cried back. “Either you get your grey arse up here and help, or you stand there and be quiet. I am getting this root if it kills me.” Herah continued her jumping.

Blackwall rubbed his eyes in exasperation. Varric let out a cackle. The relationship between the Warden and the Inquisitor was an interesting one. They were friendly in private, but on the field they often butted heads. Blackwall more than approved of helping people, but he often griped about all the stops along the way. He sighed heavily as he kept his eyes peeled on the road in case of an ambush.

“Blue skies, fresh air, a perfect day to end this. A good omen maybe?” Varric heard the whispers of Cole beside him. He turned his head to find Cole appearing on his right side. After all this time, Varric couldn’t say he understood Cole completely or was comfortable with his spontaneous trips into the minds of others, but he liked the kid. He was kind, innocent, and Varric swore that the spirit was becoming more human by the day. “Blackwall and Cassandra are gone now. It’s just me and him. Who is this funny little man? What is his goal? There must be something else.”

“Wait a minute…” Varric muttered aloud.

“He trots along beside me. I can tell his brain is turning, twisting as he watches me from behind. Does he really just wish to help, or does he have another goal?” Cole rapidly blinked as he looked down at Varric. “She is confused by you. I want to help, but there are too many strings tangled in the way. I don’t want to break something.”

Varric struggled for a reply. He simply stood there for a moment, trying to gauge how he should respond. In his head he had put two and two together and came up with that day in the Hinterlands, the one permanently burned into his brain.  _ “She had been suspicious of me?” _ He thought.  _ “Not too surprising I guess, but what if…” _

“Hey, Kid,” the Dwarf said aloud. “Could I ask a favour?”

“Yes.”

“Could you say a little more about that day?”

“… He’s hurt. He blames himself when there is no need. Now he’s smiling though, he’s happy. He spins his tales and I feel something warm inside my chest. He’s a funny Dwarf. I bop him on the nose and leave before I do anything else. I like funny.”

“I got it!” Came a booming voice from the top of the cliff.

Varric felt bitterly disappointed. He needed more. Cole was the best insight he could get into her mind-set, to maybe truly figure her out once and for all. He let out a sigh of frustration as Cole’s attention was taken by the Qunari skidding down the cliff. Herah landed with a thud and a satisfied grin on her face. The first time she had visibly emoted that day, Varric noted. He assured himself that counting when her lips moved wasn’t  _ too _ weird.

“My lady, may I ask you a question?” Blackwall asked as he re-joined the group.

Herah grunted and she chugged down a health poultice. “You may,” she said as she finished.

“It’s just… I understand your need for resources, but why didn’t you send Cole up the cliff to get it? He could have simply appeared next to the plant, grabbed it and brought it back.”

There was a short pause as Herah glared at Blackwall. Slowly, she turned her head to look at Cole who said “You never asked me too.” She then looked down towards Varric with an even harsher glare.

“I swear if you tell anyone about this...”

“Me? Inquisitor, I’m offended you would even think that I…” Before Varric could finish his sentence, Herah knelt down and met his gaze nose to nose.

“Not. A. Word.”

“… Understood.”

* * *

**Several hours later…**

“… So then the Inquisitor turns her head to Cole and he says, “You never asked me too”.”

Laughter filled the damp cave where the group was resting. It was moments like these when Varric seemed to have been sent by the Maker himself. Despite the damp, cold surroundings, despite the fact that the walking dead were just outside, despite the fact the whole world was seemingly ending, this band of warriors were laughing thanks to Varric. Well, except one.

Herah was staring straight at the storyteller. If looks could kill, she would have burnt two holes straight through Varric’s head. Varric took a fair bit of satisfaction from having got under her skin. In his eyes, he was finally turning the tables on her after weeks of manipulation on her part. That was assuming she had actually been manipulating him, but Varric was content with taking this small victory and not questioning it any further.

The group settled in a comfortable silence as they ate. Earlier they had arrived at the cave entrance where Hawke was already waiting for them. Inside, they found the Hero of Riverdane himself, Loghain Mac Tir. Varric knew this man’s story very well. In recent years, he had attempted a coup of Ferelden after he saw no way to win the current conflict with their King, leaving Cailan for dead. Loghain had then been defeated at the Landsmeet and his daughter and King Alistair had taken the throne from him. However, instead of death, Loghain found purpose.

Feenot Brosca needed Wardens. She had travelled back to Ostagar and found evidence that suggested Cailan intended to leave Anora and marry Empress Celene, essentially putting Ferelden under Orlesian rule again, but she also discovered that Cailan may well have known the battle would end in defeat and instead of retreating, he stood and fought instead. If he had retreated, many soldiers would have survived. She decided that while his actions since the battle had been morally wrong, she begrudgingly admitted that Loghain may have done the right thing back at Ostagar, and made him a Warden.

It was quite the tale. The farmer turned hero, turned betrayer, turned defender against the Blight. Loghain wasn’t as grim as Varric expected. He emitted a sense of camaraderie wherever he went. It was something that would make even his harshest critic take pause. He wasn’t a bogeyman or a legendary figure; he was just another hero in a world gone mad. Herah had taken an immediate liking to him, and Blackwall joined the pair on the other side of the campfire as they conversed about their pasts.

Varric was sitting by himself, finishing up his meal of rice and beans. He scooped every last bit, knowing that meals could often be a rarity on the road. He looked over to where Hawke and Cole were speaking. Hawke was wearing his usual smile on his face while cleaning a few droplets of blood off his sword. Varric could overhear some of what Cole was saying to the Champion.

“You feel shame for siding with those your sister hates, but she doesn’t hate you. You didn’t have a choice. If you sided with the mages they could have killed you and your sister anyway. You protected her and she still loves you.” Varric could see Hawke smile sadly as he looked into the fire. Varric had never noticed just how tired the Champion of Kirkwall looked these days. “No, I didn’t help, let me-“ Hawke put a gentle hand on Cole's shoulder. 

“It’s alright. I know she loves me-“

“No, you’re still upset. It’s something else. She walks into my house and says my name. Her voice betrays her and she sounds like she’s about to cry. “You can’t save me,” she pleads with you, but you lift her chin to meet your gaze and then-“

“Steady on there, Cole,” Hawke laughs. Varric mused how Hawke so easily shook off Cole revealing such a personal moment, but then again, that was just the kind of person Hawke was. He knew Cole was trying to help and instead of getting angry, Hawke only had kind words. “Yes, I do miss Merrill, but I’ll see her again. I have things to do here first. Thank you for trying to help, Cole.”

Hawke squeezed the spirits shoulder in reassurance and stood up. He walked over to Varric and sat down beside him. “Kind of glad Bethany isn’t here right now.”

“How come?” Asked Varric

“She’d probably be freaking out about Cole. She’d drag me out of this cave and into the rain just to keep our distance.” He let out a hollow laugh as he stared up at the roof of the cave.

“I’m sorry about the kid. He’s usually better at… whatever he does. He likes to help.”

“It’s fine. Merrill would probably adore him. She’d be…” Hawke stopped himself and looked into the fire. Varric immediately caught on and opened his mouth to say something. “No, it's fine, Varric. It’s just… this is the longest I’ve been without her for some time. It just keeps hitting me every now and then.”

“Girl troubles, huh? Well, can’t help you there I’m afraid. Having problems with the fairer sex isn’t something I’m familiar with.”

“Unless they’re angry women from Nivara who happen to be looking for me.”

“Low-blow, Hawke.”

“You started it.”

The banter came to a halt when Loghian stood up and addressed the group. “It’s settled then. We will return to Skyhold and then plan our next move.”

“We should get to sleep, I’ll take first watch,” Blackwall cut in.

* * *

Varric could not dream. He had often wondered what the experience was actually like, especially since his regular company all could. It had been described to him as wonderful and terrible depending on what kind of dream you had. Daisy once said that dreams often took shape from what was on our mind. From that, he wondered if he would dream about Hawke, or Kirkwall, or Herah? His imagination and his pondering were the closest he would ever achieve, but at least it was something. The one benefit was he didn’t have to worry about demon possession every time he closed his eyes.

While Varric was away in the closest thing he could call dreamland, he felt something lightly rock him on the shoulder. The hand that grabbed him was soft and the rocking itself was so gentle it nearly lulled him into a deeper sleep. Thankfully, Varric was a light sleeper and the Dwarf had enough consciousness to grumble out his lips.

“My watch now, huh?” Varric weakly let out. He yawned loudly and slapped his lips together. His eyes blinked wearily as a pale shape formed in front of him.

“She’s hurting,” it uttered.

“Cole?” Varric asked, recognising the voice.

“I can’t help. She’s upset, embarrassed.” Varric got up on his elbow and blinked away his watery eyes till he could see Cole clearly. “I can’t help her, but maybe you can.”

Varric was still trying to make sense of what was happening. Cole was meant to be on final watch, yet here he was, waking him up. Varric looked over to the others to see they were still asleep. Herah wasn’t there, so Varric figured she was on her watch. Cole’s wide eyes looked down at Varric expectedly in the dark, waiting for the Dwarf to act.

“Who, kid? Use specifics.” Varric furrowed his eyebrows and spoke more harshly, showing his frustration to the spirit.

“Anger hits, feelings of bitterness swell as he finishes the story. If I said anything it would only look worse. How dare he. I told him not to and he went and did it right in front of me.”

“… Ah.” Even in his exhausted state, Varric knew exactly who Cole was talking about.

“She was meant to have woken you earlier, but she decided to wait it out and wake up Loghain instead.”

Varric rubbed the back of his neck, realisation settling in like a bad smell. “She’s that mad, huh?”

“You have to go to her,” Cole said again, even more earnestly than before.

“Kid, if she’s that pissed at me, I’m the last person she’ll want to speak to. Why don’t you do it? This is what you do.”

“I can’t,” Cole said with a sad frown. “I don’t think I can help. I’m not the right person to talk to her, it has to be you. You’re special to her.”

Varric stopped breathing for a moment. He took a sharp intake of breath, letting it stay for a moment as he tried to clear his head. He took in what Cole said and it warmed his heart despite the chilly weather. He laughed almost bitterly, thinking how sappy the warm feeling felt to him, but he didn’t truly mind it. He breathed out again and nodded his head.

“Alright, kid, you win. I’ll go talk-“ Cole had disappeared part way through, and now Varric found himself the only one awake in the cave. With a grunt, he pushed against the floor and walked over to the cave entrance.

He could hear the pitter-patter of rain outside grow louder as he winded through the tunnel to the entrance. He turned the last corner and saw a large figure sitting cross legged at the foot of the cave. If he looked closely, he could see her body move up and down as she breathed heavily.

Varric suddenly found it very hard to move. It was like his feet were glued to the floor. His brain was wracked with uncertainty on how to act next. What Varric knew was that she was upset, and he was the one responsible for it. Saying that over in his head made him question why he was here, but he trusted Cole. He managed to unglue his feet and take a couple of steps forward towards Herah.

The Inquisitor heard the steps approaching her and turned her head slightly to see Varric. She sneered and returned her gaze to the falling water. Varric hadn’t noticed and sat down beside the Qunari. He sat there for a moment, trying to read her, but to no avail. At the least, the sound of rain gave a calming atmosphere which he hoped to use to his advantage.

“Oooooh, Madam, what are zee doing out here in zee cold? It is, as you would say, no place for a bootiful woman, no?”

Herah let out a snort.

“What iz this? Are you frowning?”

“I am not frowning,” Herah said flatly.

“Of course you’re not,” Varric said, returning to his normal voice. “That’s why your lips are curved downwards.”

“This is just my face.”

“Nah, your face is normally completely flat. You’re a lot cuter when you’re upset.”

Varric swore he heard Herah growl under her breath. “All my life I’ve heard that shit.”

“What shit now?”

“Everyone was always, why aren’t you happy, Herah? Why are you always so sad? I can’t help how my face looks. Just because I don’t smile outwardly doesn’t mean I’m not happy.” Herah turned her head downwards to look at a small puddle forming at the foot of the cave. She did everything she could not to meet his eyes, she was too angry to talk to him now. “Sorry I forgot to wake you, Varric. I better get some-“

Before she could sit up, Varric grabbed hold of her hand. The action caused the pair of them to pause, neither sure of what to do next. Varric had grabbed her on instinct, nearly pulling away just as fast. The Inquisitor told herself she should snatch her hand away and leave him here… but she couldn’t. Varric took a deep breath before speaking.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” He knew. He absolutely knew what he’d done. If he just came out and said it though, he was worried that it would just convince her to leave him there and then. If he could get her talking, he might convince her to say.

“Nothing is wrong.” Herah shook her head back into gear and stared down the Dwarf. This time, Varric did not falter.

“There is something wrong. This time I know there is.” The Inquisitor’s eyes squinted at the dwarf, then they suddenly flew open.

“Cole told you.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t matter. I want to help.”

“That means you also know exactly  _ why _ I’m upset.”

Silence fell between the two again as the rain continued to pour down. They both became very aware how long Varric had been holding her hand. He reluctantly let go and looked away from the Qunari.

“Yeah, about that. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“Oh? How else was it meant to come out?”

“Come on, Herah. I tell embarrassing stories about everyone. I didn’t do it to single you out and hurt you.”

“It isn’t just that.” Herah sighed loudly and put her hands in her white locks. She grasped at them as she tried to calm herself. Varric sat patiently, only being able to fiddle with his fingers to keep himself still. “I am the Herald of Andraste. I am meant to be the embodiment of perfection and enlightenment, at least, that’s what I keep hearing. In front of this important contact you belittled me, and now I do not see the respect I see from the others. Without that, how do I rely on him following my orders if need be? How would I get anyone to follow me if they all lost that respect?”

Varric laughed. He couldn’t help it, and he knew he really shouldn’t, but he still laughed anyway. It wasn’t a full-blown laugh, but more of a chuckle. He pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned forward in a vain attempt to muffle the sound. Herah arched her eyebrows and nearly stormed off there, but the sudden urge to slap Varric kept her in place.

“Do you mind telling me exactly what is so funny?”

“It’s just-“ Varric cleared his throat before continuing. “It’s just that you think people won’t respect you if they don’t think you’re perfect? I think you’ve underestimated yourself, Inquisitor.”

“Oh for…” Herah sighed before finishing the sentence. “Alright then, the great and wise Varric, tell me what I’ve so easily missed.”

“You’re too hooked up on the idea that perfection is all people should see of you, otherwise, they won’t give a damn about your orders. It’s easy to follow a symbol, but sometimes, we have to remember the person carrying the symbol is a mortal like the rest of us.”

“And why is that essential?”

“Because it makes little people, like me, remember that it’s okay to make mistakes too.”

“…”

“…”

“… You mean little people as in regular citizens, rather than Dwar-“

“Yes, that’s what I mean.” Varric stood up while Herah remained sitting. They were now eye level as he turned to face her. “While people are following you, they’re really following what you represent. Peace. An end to all this shit between mages, Templars and the rifts in the sky.” Varric pointed outwards to the large rift still glowing brightly.

“I don’t understand your point,” Herah pressed.

“Look, when Loghain didn’t look at you the way others do, it’s not because he doesn’t respect you. That man is a soldier who’s seen a lot in his life. His country has been invaded, he’s been forced to fight Darkspawn for a living, and here he is now watching the world go crazy from the rifts in the sky. To him, you’re another soldier, but he respects soldiers, and he respects what you represent. He will follow you. We will all follow you. Sometimes though, when we share embarrassing stories about one another, it reminds us that it’s okay to keep laughing despite what’s going on. You’re the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, but you’re also one of us. Just another being thrown into this crazy shit called life.”

Herah had stopped looking at Varric and gazed over to the rift once more. When she looked at it, she felt the energy in her hand begin to stir. She clenched it, trying to block out the feeling. Her eyes scrunched up as it only grew more and more. She couldn’t meet his eyes, for now she felt shame. She had been trying too hard to be something she couldn’t, and only now did she recognise how impossible the task was.

She felt a smaller hand touch her own, where the mark was buzzing violently. She looked over at him in shock. She tried to dissuade him by pulling away, but Varric didn’t let go. He gently slid his hand inside hers and wrapped his fingers around hers. He looked at her with a smile and she started to relax. Instead of harming Varric, the energy slowly started to settle and before they knew it, her hand was no longer vibrating.

“It’s been a while since you’ve trusted anyone like this, huh?” Varric asked quietly, almost to a whisper.

“… Yes, it has.” Herah replied, her breathing becoming shallower. Herah tried to look forward, but she was caught off guard again when Varric placed his finger on her chin and guided her to look at him again.

“Feeling weak is terrible, no doubt about that, but the best heroes always suffer. Stories have a beginning, middle and an end, and all along them there are problems the heroes have to overcome. Sometimes they succeed and sometimes they fail. What never changes is the best ones never give up. Make all the mistakes you want Inquisitor, but as long as you keep following what you believe in, we won’t stop following you.”

For a single moment, it felt like they were the only two beings in the entire world. To Herah, it felt like their roles had been reversed. Here she was, feeling helpless before him as she must have made him feel before. He stayed though; he did not leave her like this. She felt relief wash over her, the muscles in her body that had been so tense for so long finally loosened, and she let out a breath she had not realised she’d been holding in. Herah struggled to maintain her gaze with him as she felt her walls break down.

“I can trust you, then?” She breathed.

“I’ll be here when you need me,” Varric said without a second thought. It felt like he’d been waiting to say that for some time.

“Good. No more games then.”

Before Varric could ask her what she meant, Herah leaned forward and their lips crashed together. They were soft, like velvet. The kisses weren't hungry or forceful; they were more like gentle pecks from a bird. There was a longing though as both of their breathing became more ragged as the kissing continued. Neither was sure how long they had been there before they broke away, but neither really cared at that point. As they parted, they gazed at one another, knowing that whatever was there had transformed into something else. Something that scared and excited them in equal measure.

“Will you stay with me for a while?” Asked Herah. “I don’t feel like sleeping right now.”

“It would be my honour, your Inquisitoralness.”

Varric sat down beside Herah, grinning from ear to ear. She whispered for him to tell her a story as Varric leaned on her arm and began to recount one of his favourites. All that was there that evening were the two of them, the rain and a giant green hole in the sky. Cole poked his head from behind a rock and smiled. He then disappeared, vanishing back alongside the others in the cave.


	5. Chapter 5

It was finally done.

Varric gently stroked the stubble on his chin as he looked over the final chapter once more. The book was awful. It was trashy, cliché filled and possibly the worst thing he had ever written, but it was done. He couldn’t help but chuckle as it dawned on him exactly what he was about to do. It was going to be so worth it.

Shortly after returning from Crestwood, the Inquisitor had prepared another expedition to the blighted place to deal with several outstanding issues. While the breach had been closed, a fortress taken and Loghain brought to Skyhold in one piece, the Inquisitor wanted to make sure the area was completely safe for the locals and her spy network that had set up shop there. Varric also remembered her muttering something about the mayor being suspicious.

In the meantime, Varric had been left behind and decided that easing the tension between himself and the Seeker should take top priority. It also took his mind off of other things as well. His schedule had been pretty basic; wake-up, write a chapter, lunch with Hawke and the others, target practice, tinker with Bianca, more writing, bed. It was suprisingly mundane for one such as himself, but it came as a relief to Varric, who recently found himself muttering “I’m getting too old for this shit” more times than he’d like to admit.

Now though, he was finally finished, and it couldn’t have happened at a better time either. Varric felt a pair of large hands grab hold of his shoulders. They gently started to massage him as a set of lips made contact with his forehead. He raised his head up to meet two yellow eyes. The Inquisitor gave one of her rare smiles as she looked over to the book.

“I’m back,” she said in a quiet voice.

“So I’ve noticed,” Varric said through a laugh. He noted that she was struggling to keep her eyes open as she read the open book. “You should probably get some sleep. You look tired.”

“If that was your attempt to get me in your bed, then nice try, Tethras. You’ll have to work a little harder than that,” she lightly chuckled. Her face returned to her usual expression as she read on. “No offense, Varric, but this is pretty trashy, even for my tastes. I’ll never understand why Cassandra likes this stuff.”

They shared a comfortable silence as Herah continued with her massage. The afternoon light streamed through the small, yet cosy room. More important letters that he couldn’t keep at his desk in the hall were placed randomly across the hovel, while Varric’s works were neatly stacked on top of one another. His bed was large for a Dwarf, but that just made things more relaxing for him. He had actually been offered more suitable lodgings before, but he had turned them down. There was something about the room that reminded him of home, he just couldn’t put his finger on what that was.

“You think she’ll like it then?” Varric asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“Oh, she’ll love it. This is right up her alley.” Herah brought down her thumbs to massage his upper back. “In case you were wondering, yes, she came back with us. I assume everything has been fine here since I’ve been gone.”

“I would’ve thought Ruffles would have met you by the gate. She didn’t say anything?”

“I may have passed her… or charged through her,” she said, clearing her throat. The image of Josephine’s precious yellow dress covered in mud made her cringe. “I’m gonna be hearing about that for the next week.”

“Why in the Maker did you do that?”

“Honestly, I wanted to see you first, before anything else got in the way. We haven’t exactly had a chance to talk since… you know.” She stopped what she was doing and walked around to look down at him. She sat on his desk, just in front of the book so it was out of sight. She looked down at him with her tired eyes and sighed. “I was right about that mayor, by the way. I think I’m gonna enjoy that sentencing.”

"Everything has been pretty calm here. It must be one of those once in a blue moon kind of things. And why fret, what is there to talk about?” Varric asked, ignoring her last statement. “I kissed you, you kissed me back, we're practically married in the eyes of the chantry.”

“Is that a proposal?”

“Ah, how could I do that to my adoring fans? They’d cry themselves to sleep if they knew I was off the market. Best give them some hope, even if it’s for only a little longer.” Varric cackled as the Inquisitor shook her head with the tiniest of smiles. “I was being serious by the way, you do look tired. You should get some sleep.”

“You finished the book though,” she countered, barely suppressing a yawn. “I want to be there when you give it to Cassandra.”

“And you will be, but I won’t be doing that today. Saying the Seeker is a tough cookie would be an understatement, but even she needs her rest. We’ll do it tomorrow, I promise.”

“Fine, tomorrow.” The Inquisitor stood up, only to lean down and place another kiss on Varric’s forehead. She strode off as Varric watched her reach the door, before she stopped and turned to him. “I still want that talk about us, by the way,” she said in a flat tone. “I said no more games between us.”

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that,” Varric pointed out. “Mystery adds a little spice to the whole thing.”

Herah smiled in response. “Alright then, have it your way. You’ll never know when I’m about to pounce, Varric Tethras.”

Varric wasn’t sure if he should have been scared by that statement, or very excited.

* * *

The next day, Varric had gotten up nearly the second the sun had risen in the sky. He knew Cassandra was an early riser and it was the best chance to catch her alone. Apparently, the Inquisitor had thought along the same lines as she met Varric at his room before he had a chance to wake her.

The two walked side by side down to the courtyard. The walls of Skyhold prevented the morning sun from engulfing their eyeballs in sunlight. There were a number of people up, but they were mostly senior servants attending to preparations for the day. They walked down the steps and turned right towards the tavern, but instead of entering, they walked past it and towards the front of the blacksmith where Cassandra had set up her training dummies.

They could see the Nevarran woman putting her less than delicate touch on the unfortunate targets. She swung ferociously as she threatened to either dislodge them from the ground or smash them to pieces with her sword. Varric actually felt sorry for the inanimate objects, as he still had the sneaky suspicion that Cassandra visualised they were him. It was still tense between the two, and while neither would call themselves friends, they used to be able to at least converse with one another. Varric felt like he was risking his life if he tried that now.

Varric took the lead as the Inquisitor nodded for him to move ahead. She slowed down her pace so Cassandra would see Varric first. The Seeker turned around and did not look pleased to see the Dwarf. Her frown was evident as she narrowed her eyes at him. Varric thanked the Maker that she decided to place her sword down when he approached reaching distance.

“What have you done now?” Asked Cassandra, mistrust laced in her voice.

Varric’s nerves would have typically given out right there and then, but when he remembered the Inquisitor was standing right behind him, he felt a new surge of confidence rush through him. He put on his award winning smile and did what he did best: talk.

“I get it, Seeker. You’re still sore after our spat.”

“I am not a child, Varric. Do not suggest I am without reason.” Her anger was already rising, so Varric raised his arms in peace.

“A peace offering: the next chapter of Swords and Shields. I hear you’re a fan.”

Varric produced said book as Cassandra looked down at it. It took her several moments to process exactly what was going on, but when she did, her head snapped back upwards and looked straight at the Inquisitor.

“This is your doing.”

“Oh, yes. Do you really think I’d miss this?” Herah replied with a rare smug grin.

“Well, if you’re not interested, you’re not interested,” Varric cut in as he retracted the book. “Still needs editing, anyhow.” The Dwarf started to turn around and walk back towards the castle when he heard a Nevarran accent call out to him.

“Wait!”

He stopped and turned to face Cassandra again. Her eyes were wide open and she looked borderline desperate. “You’re probably wondering what happens to the Knight-Captain after the last chapter,” said Varric.

Cassandra took a sharp intake of breath as she placed her hands over her chest. “Nothing should happen to her. She was falsely accused!”

“Well, it turns out the Guardsman-“

“Don’t tell me!”

Just as Varric turned to leave again, Cassandra rushed forward and snatched the book from his hand. She resisted hugging it to her chest as she gazed over the cover. It had the main character, dressed in armour and her long, orange hair blowing in the breeze. She faced away from the Inquisitor and Varric, too embarrassed to look at them at that moment. Varric cleared his throat to get her attention.

“This is the part where you thank the Inquisitor. I don’t normally give sneak peeks, after all.”

They could see Cassandra dip her head for a moment, before turning around and facing the two of them. “I… thank you,” she said that with one of the biggest smiles the Inquisitor had ever seen on her.

“This was everything I’d hoped for,” Herah replied, unable to resist the smile that formed on her face as well.

“I know how you feel,” Varric added. He gave Herah a wink before turning to leave.

“I wonder if I have time to read the first part?” Cassandra asked herself as she sat down on a nearby stump.

Just before Varric went out of earshot, he turned around and said, “Don’t forget to tell all your friends! If you have any.” He muttered that last bit to himself. He sighed with a happy smile and said “Completely worth it.”

* * *

Varric assumed that it had worked as Cassandra had only glared at him twice today. An all-time personal low for the Seeker. He found himself in the tavern again, as he usually did, and Hawke was beside him, as he usually was. In fact that was what made today so great, it was normal. No Darkspawn, no rifts, no blood magic, no demons, just the tavern, Hawke, and listening to himself talk.

Varric finally found his storytelling groove again and had just finished regaling the tavern with one of his newest tales. Whenever Herah looked over to him from the bar, instead of distracting Varric and losing his train of thought, she gave the Dwarf new ideas and brand new twists and turns he would have never thought of before. He could feel it in his bones. When he looked at her, he felt inspired. Herah was becoming his muse, just like Bianca before her.

Hawke and Varric chose to enjoy the silence of the now near empty bar as they downed their drinks. The bard was still playing, but the two of them could tell she was just practicing some new songs and seeing how they sounded. Cole was still likely about, but who knew when he’d pop out, and Sera was likely moping about her room at this hour. Cassandra and Herah were by the bar once more, their conversation barely audible to the Human and Dwarf. However, the pair had an unlikely drinking partner today. Opposite them sat Loghain Mac Tir, who was nursing an Orlesian whiskey. The former general had taken one sip and the look of disgust he presented was akin to the time Aveline walked in on Isabela conversing with several of her guardsmen.

“Do either of you two know why we’re drinking Orlesian alcohol in Fereldan?” The Hero of Riverdane asked with a grumble.

“I heard the Inquisition received a gift from an Orlesian noble. He brought enough alcohol to get this entire castle drunk three times over. We're kind of working through it.” Hawke said with a chuckle.

“I remember when Maric led us to intercept a supply cart bound for the Chevalier’s. In the cart, along with all the weapons and armour, were gallons of the finest Orlesian wines. He declared that we would all drink well that night, but it was so awful, we ended using it to set fire to their camps,” Loghain cackled.

Varric had to admit, Loghain had his fair share of great stories himself. Give him enough alcohol and it was hard to get him to stop; not that you would want him too though, as you’d be too engrossed in the tale by then. He was a man who had seen a lot in his time, and he certainly wasn’t shy when it came to talking about it.

The three of them would be heading back with Herah to the Western Approach tomorrow, so tonight was meant to be for preparations. Instead, the three of them had gone drinking, but it wasn’t as rowdy as the Dwarf expected. They returned to their silence as the bard started playing her new song.

Suddenly, they heard the tavern door swing open. It caught the attention of everyone for a moment, but they returned to what they were doing when Iron Bull strolled in. It couldn’t have been an emergency as Bull came into the tavern far too often. Varric expected him to walk to the far side of the room and sit down in his usual spot, so he was surprised when the Qunari headed straight for their table. Iron Bull spied a seat next to Loghain and took it, eyeing Varric the whole time.

“So…” said Bull as he leaned forward.

“So…” responded Varric, placing his mug on the table. Hawke and Loghain exchanged a look, not sure if they should still be here.

“Did you do it?” Bull asked with a grin.

“Do what?”

“Oh for… how was the sex?” Hawke spluttered on the contents of his mug and Loghain froze. He was definitely not meant to be hearing this. Varric’s jaw nearly unhinged. He could barely hear Cassandra and Herah still talking so he knew they hadn’t heard, but it didn’t help with the awkwardness of the situation. Varric worked his mouth, hoping for something to come out, but nothing did.

“Don’t act like that,” Bull continued. “I’ve seen the way you two have been looking at each other since she came back. Something’s changed between you two. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re still in one piece. I imagine a night with her would break-“

“We haven’t had sex,” Varric cut in. Iron Bull looked genuinely shocked, as the other two men at the table looked even more confused, but slightly more intrigued. “Look, we went to the coast, kissed and that was it. We haven’t got that far yet.”

“Well what the hell are you two waiting for?” Bull argued, getting slightly louder. “You two need to rut and get it over with already, you’re both practically leaking sexual tension.”

“Wait, what do you even think is between us?” Varric questioned.

Bull paused for a moment, checking things over in his head. Loghain looked for any excuse to leave, but came up with none that would be convincing enough. Hawke would have done the same, but he was reluctant to leave Varric in his now agitated state. Bull chuckled slightly to himself. It all suddenly clicked into place.

“Oh, I see. You’re playing for keeps,” Bull chuckled again. “Fair enough. I’m a little surprised honestly, I thought it was just about sex between you two.”

As Bull said that, he flicked a finger towards the bar. Hawke roughly followed his finger and found it was directed at both Herah and Cassandra. Hawke’s face suddenly went white as the pieces began to fit together in his head. He stared down at Varric, wide-eyed in disbelief. Varric looked up at Hawke in utter confusion.

“What?” Asked the Dwarf.

“I-I’m just surprised, Varric,” Hawke uttered, his face returning to its natural colour. “Last I knew, the pair of you two could barely stand to be in the same room.”

“We weren’t that bad,” argued Varric, rolling his eyes dramatically. “What can I say? I guess I have a thing for women who can beat the shit out of me.”

“With that logic, I’m surprised you never made a move on Aveline,” Hawke laughed gleefully. The sheer absurdity of the scenario dawning on him. It was akin to a story from one of Varric’s novels. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m happy for you. It’s about time Bianca let off her grip on you,” said Hawke as he put an arm around the Dwarf’s shoulder.

Varric didn’t react immediately. It was like the world slowed down just to give him time to think. _Bianca, have I really moved on?_ Varric mused. It’s been so long. _Maybe it’s kinder if I just let her go._ The second the thought passed through his mind, Varric felt guilty. He knew he shouldn’t, the two of them hadn’t been together for some time. Maybe part of his heart would always belong to her? Perhaps it was something he would just never be able to let go. His hand tightened into a fist as he suddenly felt an irrational anger course through him. He considered finishing his tankard, but decided against it as being drunk and angry was not a good combination. He placed his best smile on his face and looked up at his friend.

“Thanks, Hawke, that means a lot.” Hawke unfurled his arm and returned to his drink.

“Who knows? Maybe the Seeker will be good for you,” Hawke finished with a slurp of his drink.

“Yeah, maybe we…. What?”

The Iron Bull broke into a fit of laughter as Varric’s skin became a ghostly shade of white. The dwarf almost knocked his drink to the floor as he spun towards the Champion with his mouth agape. Loghain continued to look confused.

“What the hell, Hawke!?” Varric shouted, garnering a few looks.

“What?” it was Hawke’s turn to look confused.

“Bull didn’t mean the Seeker,” Varric said, much quieter now.

“If I can interrupt,” Loghain spoke softly, catching the attention of the others. “Excuse an old man for curiosity's sake, but what are you all talking about?” Loghain was rubbing his eyes, exasperated by the whole conversation.

Bull’s ears suddenly clocked onto something. He caught the faintest sense of uncertainty in Cassandra’s voice, all the way from the bar. Picking up the small fragments, he put them together and made a guess as to where the Seeker was headed. He nudged Loghain’s arm to catch his attention.

“You want to know what’s going on. Keep your ears trained to the Inquisitor and the Seeker over there.”

The four of them all fell silent. Cassandra was fidgeting with her fingers. She did this whenever she was wracked with indecision. It was a habit she detested and she had attempted many times to get rid of it without success. Cassandra wasn’t drinking, but rather she was just enjoying Herah’s company. The Seeker had hoped it could stay like this, but as a member of the Inquisition, and as a friend, she felt she had to discuss something that might upset qunari.

The Inquisitor, on the other hand, was downing her seventh pint in front of the slightly shocked bartender. She signalled him for another and he took the mug without hesitation. She burped into her hand with an odd satisfaction. She hadn’t lost her ability to handle her alcohol at the very least. Herah heard Cassandra make a disgusted noise and turned her attention to the Seeker.

“Maker’s breath,” Cassandra said with a sigh. “It’s midday, Inquisitor. Please control yourself.” Herah let out another burp in defiance, keeping her frown the entire time. 

“I’ll drink as I please if you don’t mind” she said as she poked Cassandra with an elbow. “It takes more than this to even make me tipsy.” Herah flashed a grin for more than a microsecond before returning to her neutral expression.

“That may be so, but it couldn’t hurt to show a little restraint, would it?” Casandra asked with her thick accent. Herah waved her off with a hand.

At times it felt like they were too similar for Cassandra. They were both women of action, refusing to waste any time when there was work to be done. They were strong, standoffish, adept at combat, and shared a love of romantic literature, though Cassandra’s taste often voyaged into the more erotic. If it wasn’t for the fact they were two entirely different species, they could have been mistaken for sisters. There was something about that, which gave Cassandra comfort no matter what. She had a leader she could be proud of, a friend to turn to whenever she needed, and maybe, just maybe, a sister to treasure.

Herah burped again.

Cassandra rolled her eyes, almost forgetting the point of her worrying. “We need to speak,” Cassandra stated, bluntly.

“Is that not what we’re doing,” Herah replied.

“I need to ask you a question of a… delicate nature.” Cassandra shooed the barman away and waited for Herah’s response.

“Alright then. Go ahead.”

Cassandra began fidgeting with her hands again and tried to stop herself by placing them flat on the bar. She breathed a heavy sigh, cursing to herself for being placed in this position, but she couldn’t retreat now.

“We have noticed that you are spending a lot more time around Varric lately.”

“Who is “we”?”

“Leliana and myself. The two of you have seemingly become… a lot closer as of late. At times it seems the two of you are almost romantically involved.”

“That is because we are romantically involved, as you would put it.”

The tension in the room skyrocketed as Herah turned an eye towards Cassandra. The Seeker clenched her jaw as she let the words settle in. Her hands began fidgeting again and Cassandra found that she couldn’t meet Herah’s gaze.

“I feared you might say that,” Cassandra said with a sigh. “Inquisitor, you must know how this looks. Varric may be an Andrastean, but he blasphemes with every breath. I think-“

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Cassandra, but I don’t recall asking for your opinion on the matter,” Herah interrupted firmly. She fully turned to the Seeker with a scowl etched on her face. “Who I choose to spend my nights with is no business of yours.”

“I’m sorry, that came out wrong,” Cassandra grunted. “I just want to know if you know what you’re getting into. You are your own woman, and a great one at that, but Varric is… deceiving.”

“I thought you’d go easier on him, especially with all the effort he put into your book.”

Cassandra ignored the blush that crept its way to her cheeks and pressed on. “I do appreciate it, truly. This matter is unrelated to that though. I thought I could believe him when he told me he did not know where Hawke was. I trusted him. I do not want to see you make the same mistake that I did.”

“Is that really it?” Herah asked. She pushed her drink away and fully turned to the Seeker.

“I don’t follow.”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with him being a Dwarf? Or his past?”

“Oh, Maker no.” Cassandra laughed a little. “I am not prudish about races. I would not have made you Inquisitor if I was. The fact you were a mage too would have turned most off the idea, but I knew you were what we needed. I have no issue with the fact that Varric is a Dwarf. Truthfully, I am worried for you. I know I shouldn’t be, you can look after yourself, but I can’t help what I feel though, and I felt I should give my opinion on the matter.”

“So, just to clarify,” Herah spoke, placing her hand up to stop Cassandra. “You have no real issue with that he’s a Dwarf or us actually being together, but rather you're just concerned about the long-term of the relationship.”

“… Yes, I suppose that will suffice.”

“Well then as your friend, let me assure you there is nothing to worry about. It is early days between me and Varric, and while I’ll acknowledge what has been building between us has been a long time coming, I’m old enough to know when something isn’t going to work. He isn’t just another liar, he’s a storyteller, it’s his job to exaggerate stories, and when something is important enough he would tell us. He didn’t tell you about Hawke because of personal incentive, that’s all.”

“Alright, I understand,” Cassandra said with a gentle smile. She would go no further in this conversation, partially because Herah would not budge, but also because she knew that her friend was more than capable of handling Varric.

“Good.” Herah downed the rest of her mug and stood up. “Come on, I need to practice before tomorrow. You can be my training dummy.” Cassandra laughed as she joined Herah and headed out of the tavern.

As soon as they left the bar, all eyes turned to Varric. He was now the centre of attention, but for all the wrong reasons. Hawke was easy to read. He showed confusion, and not because he hadn’t figured out who Varric was now with, but rather, why. Bull was simple too; his glowing smugness was evident, despite not really doing anything at all. Loghain was unreadable, however, he didn’t seem angry or distressed at all. It was hard to tell with soldiers.

“I suppose she is attractive, for a Qunari,” Loghain murmured, gaining the others attention. “Good for you, Dwarf. However, take some advice from someone who knows. Love and war rarely mix well. Just keep that in mind.”

Without another word, the Grey Warden lifted himself off his seat, finished his drink, and walked calmly out of the tavern. Bull, with no explanation, hurried after him. Varric wasn’t sure what cord had struck inside the Hero of Riverdane, but whatever it was, it clearly awoke some bad memories. Hawke had remained silent throughout. The two of them didn’t say a word to each other, before Hawke broke the uncomfortable silence.

“So, you really do have a thing for ass-kickers, huh?” Hawke put on that smile he always had on, but Varric was unsure if it was genuine or not.

“You’re not upset?” Varric asked, unable to look Hawke in the eyes.

“That she’s a Qunari? I’m more surprised than anything else. Your business is you’re business, Varric. When I said I’m happy you found someone, I meant that.”

Not much more was said after that. Hawke excused himself, saying he’d best prepare tomorrow. What the Qunari did to Kirkwall all those years ago, Varric wondered if that resentment was still lodged deep inside his friend. He wasn’t sure how long he’d stayed there, unsure exactly what to feel. He felt genuinely happy knowing that Herah intended to see their relationship continue, but the reaction of Hawke left him feeling hollow. When he finally found his way to his bed, he closed his eyes and tried to think of anything else, but, for some reason, the only thing that came to his head were the angry shouts of men with horns, staring down the city of Kirkwall.


	6. Chapter 6

No matter the time, day, season, from the years beginning to end, there was one simple truth about Skyhold that never changed; it was always cold as shit. Ordinarily this would bother Varric incessantly, as it became difficult to wear his shirt with the top button left undone. However, right about now, he needed the biting winds to remind himself that he was still alive. Judging by the fact he felt like a living form of ice right about; it had mixed results.

The dwarf shivered and made an inaudible noise from his lips. Varric breathed outwards and saw his breath turn to mist against the chilling air. He took a small pleasure from that. Perhaps it was childish, but he was too old to care what others thought of him. The snowy mountains in front of him seemed to go on forever. Skyhold sat nestled in between these giant natural structures, acting as the perfect defence against anyone who sought to attack the fortress. He stood on top the battlements, close-by to where Hawke and Loghain were often found standing about, but he was not here for either of them this night.

He nearly lost himself in the moment, staring out towards the horizon as the world around him turned to white noise. Then through the noiseless din cut through the sound of a roaring fire, causing Varric to jump. Without hesitation, he ran to the other side of the battlements and saw a mage lighting a campfire with his magic. Other mages were looking on and it seemed like nothing more than harmless practice. The dwarf stared mindlessly into the flame. It was small, its only real significance was to give a bit of protection against the early morning cold, but for Varric, it appeared as a raging inferno. 

The root cause of his frantic mental state was the result of the same woman it always seemed to be. Varric and Herah’s relationship had progressed quite nicely the past several weeks. Things had been slightly tense during their excursion to the Western Approach, but when Varric looked into her warm yellow eyes, for a single moment, all his problems evaporated before him. Those hypnotic iris' were enough to put him in a happy trance, if only for a few seconds. But then he would see the horns, and his vision was filled with nothing but fire. He swore he could hear the screams ringing in his ears again, the smell of embers and ash and blood. The memory was always so vivid that he swore he could feel the heat of the raging fires against his skin, despite the freezing weather.

A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead and Varric quickly wiped it away, desperately trying to suppress the memory. He suddenly felt like punching the stone in front him, but resisted the temptation and attempted to turn his focus back to the view. His eyes suddenly felt strained as the sight before him felt wrong; as if he didn’t deserve to view its beauty and majesty.

Varric stopped for a moment, calming himself with deep breaths before the visions in his head ceased to be. He thought back to when it had all begun, concentrating on the dream the night before the excursion. In a way, it had been more of exaggerated memory, but it was a memory that would stay with him forever. He recalled the Qunari attack of Kirkwall vividly, the fires that spread from the rooftops to the streets below always stuck out the most to him. He hadn’t shown it, or at least he thought he hadn’t, but that moment had always affected him deeply; perhaps more so than he realised.

That was Kirkwall; his home. He had been born there, raised there, and he knew how big of a shit hole the place really was, but it didn’t change what he felt when he saw Aveline marching her guard around the city, or Anders helping the poor souls of Darktown, or even when Varric looked at Hawke and saw the power he was slowly building for himself. When Varric looked at those things, he felt something stir in him that he would most otherwise ignore: a glimmer of hope. That night had torn that hope to pieces. Varric had watched how easily Kirkwall fell to its knees to such a small invading force, but even with how it all ended, the event had left an impression on the Dwarf that was only now taking effect.

Hawke’s mixed reaction to Herah didn’t help matters either, especially since the Champion was one of the most open minded people that Varric knew. He wasn’t openly hostile to the Inquisitor, they actually worked together so well that he’d been offered a permanent position, but it was those subtle looks he passed between Varric and Herah, that had left Varric unwilling to bring it up with Hawke again. So despite how Varric and Herah’s relationship had bloomed, something ugly was taking root inside of Varric’s mind, and he didn’t know if he could kill before it started to fester.

He wasn’t sure how long he had stayed on the battlements before he heard footsteps approaching him. Turning a lazy eye towards the sound, Varric felt a warmth fill his chest when he saw who it was. The Inquisitor was making her early morning rounds when she spied her lover peeking over to the horizon. She quickened her pace and placed her hands on Varric’s shoulders. Gently, she began to massage them as Varric let out a satisfied hum.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Herah asked mischievously.

“Gee, that line isn’t overused,” Varric answered sarcastically.

“Says the master of the cliché,” Herah fired back.

“Touché.” Varric grinned as Herah pressed her lips on his forehead.

His heartbeat quickened, but Varric felt strangely calmer. The memories seemed so distant now as he was thrown into the embrace of the Inquisitor. She continued her message, unaffected by the idea anyone could walk by and see them in their current position. It had become big news around Skyhold that both Herah and Varric were more than just friends, yet despite how intimate Herah had been at the start of the relationship, she was seemingly in no rush to lay with the storyteller just yet. Varric had decided to leave the matter to her to decide when she was ready, as he was content with just her company at the present time.

Of course, the Inquisition’s inner circle had not been shy about giving their thoughts on the budding romance. Vivienne had been the most vocal against the relationship, or perhaps the only one. It wasn’t personal as she explained it, but she felt it wouldn’t look good in the eyes of the rest of the world. Herah hadn’t thought her opinion of Vivienne could have gotten any lower, but the knight-enchanter had proved her wrong. Cassandra had warmed up to the idea over time, and even apologised to the two of them. Varric had to write the moment down so he would never risk forgetting it. Solas didn’t seem to be bothered by it at all, and simply wished the two of them the best of luck. Iron Bull was still strangely smug despite not doing anything at all, while Sera had burst into a fit of laughter when she found out. She still snickered when she saw the pair even close to one another. Blackwall and Cole had kept to themselves on the matter; Blackwall didn’t feel it was any of his business while Cole simply had no feelings on it except they made each other happy. Finally, Dorian had been fawning over Herah more than usual, recommending several romantic novels from his private collection. Varric never understood how those two had become so close, but he didn’t question it.

“We need to talk,” Herah said in a hushed whisper.

Varric couldn’t help but tense up slightly. He took a sharp intake of breath as he let those words settle in. The looming dread they carried did not bode well for him, but he maintained his composure, reasoning with himself that if it was something bad, Herah wouldn’t be giving him a massage right now.

“We do? People will think you're keeping me for yourself.”

“Who’s to say I’m not?” Herah cleared her throat before she allowed herself to become distracted. She wiped away her tiny smile and a neutral expression appeared in its place. “I’m being serious here, Varric. I’m worried about you.”

“Worried about me?”

“You seem… distracted. I didn’t see you when I woke up.”

Varric recalled the previous night. Herah swayed into his room, bringing with her a chilled bottle of Antivan brandy. The pair of them had talked, snuggled and fallen asleep together in bed. Before Herah had awoken though, Varric had lazily opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was her horns, triggering the memories inside his head. He quickly left and found himself on the battlements, leading to their meeting now. Varric scratched at his stubble in thought.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I just needed some air.”

“Really? I think there’s a bit more to all of this.”

The Qunari stopped her massage and gently began to turn the Dwarf to face her. Varric felt like a child the way he was handled, but looking up at Herah reminded him why it would not be so healthy to deny her. Varric often forgot just how tall she was in comparison to a human, but she practically towered over Varric as she squinted her eyes at him. He knew she wouldn’t strike him, but the looks she could dish out were painful enough.

“Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?” Herah pressed.

Varric gulped down a lump in his throat. His mouth went dry and he found himself working his jaw, trying to find something to say. What could he say? Normally, his best option would be to come clean, but he had no idea how Herah would react if he told her what was _really_ wrong with him. He knew it wasn’t her, it was him, and that was what made it worse. He wished he knew for certain that she’d take it the right way, but she was still so damn difficult to read. In the end, the Dwarf could only think of one thing to say.

“There’s nothing wrong,” he said unconvincingly. “I woke up and the room felt a bit stuffy. I just wanted some space.”

Herah let out a frustrated sigh and knelt down. “Fine, I see I won't get any further with you today.” She refused to meet his eyes at first; whether that was because of anger or disappointment, Varric couldn’t be sure. She soon faced him directly though, and made sure to mask her feelings. “Did you have breakfast?”

“Yeah. Grabbed an apple on the way out.”

“Alright, will I be seeing you for lunch?” 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

A wry smile formed on Varric’s face, and it was so infectious that the Qunari found one form on her face as well. Herah leaned forward and gave Varric a light kiss. At least, that was how it started, but as the kiss lingered, Herah’s tongue crept forward and snuck it’s way into Varric’s mouth. She wrapped her arms around his body and Varric wrapped his around her head. They showed no signs of stopping when suddenly they heard the sound of shuffling feet and turned to face the Champion. Hawke stood a few meters away, just at the top of the stairway. He looked tense; as if he had just seen a ghost. 

“Hawke, you’re up early,” Herah stated, showing very little notion to her embarrassment.

“I-ugh…” Hawke stammered out. Herah stood up, leaving Varric switching his gaze towards both the Champion and the Herald. “Y-you know what they say? The early bird… oh maker, I nearly just said that,” he muttered under his breath.

It suddenly felt like the entire castle had gone silent all at once. It was so quiet that Varric could hear Hawke’s breath from two meters away. He could feel his stomach tightening as the silence continued to drag, no one was willing to make the first move. Hawke and Herah had settled into a staring contest, with Hawke showing a rare moment of bewilderment, and Herah’s gaze getting more intense by the second. If Varric knew one thing about his lover, it was that stare. She was reading Hawke, pressuring him. Varric wasn’t sure if she had figured anything out, but he didn’t like the icy steel that had emerged in the Qunari’s voice.

“I will see you later, Varric. I’m sure you and Hawke have plenty to talk about.” Without missing a beat, Herah knelt down to Varric and gave him another kiss. She prolonged it, turning a yellow eye to Hawke to make sure he was watching before finally breaking it off. As she marched away, she left Varric nearly tripping over his own feet in a daze. He kept himself up right by leaning against the wall, wearing a blissful grin on his face. When Herah was out of visual range, Hawke gingerly approached Varric, yet seemed no more eager to talk than he was before.

“So… the mountains are nice? Very…. mountainy.” The Champion reached for anything to bring up, and he regretted it almost immediately. He rested his face in his palm, unable to meet Varric in the eye. Varric, to his credit, was doing better with the awkward vibe, but he too found the conversation well very dry. “It was good seeing you, Varric,” Hawke muttered as he pushed himself forward. Before he could get very far though, Varric called out to him.

“Hawke, wait!” Hawke spun around on his heel, his head snapping sharply towards the dwarf. “We need to talk.”

“Is that not what we were just doing?”

“Listen to me, Hawke. I’m the last dwarf to start lecturing people on avoiding confrontations, but we both know this has been brewing for a while.” Varric wasn’t sure what had come over him, but he showed no signs of stopping now. “What’s your deal with Herah?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Hawke said, putting his hands up in a defensive position. Varric wasn’t letting up though.

“Don't lie to me. Ever since that day in the Tavern where you found out, you’ve been giving both me and Herah looks. I’m not imagining it. I’ve known you for too long to make a mistake like that. Tell me, Hawke.”

In the end, Varric’s final sentence came across as if he was pleading to the champion, rather than the aggressive tone he had before. Hunter Hawke found his eyes drawn to the floor as he contemplated what to say next. The two were silent for a moment, the only sounds filling the empty space were the steady mountain winds. The distance between them was growing rapidly. Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity had passed, Hawke spoke.

“I meant what I said back there. I wasn’t upset or angry at you, I was just surprised at the time. Now? I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t bothered by it at all.” Varric took a sharp intake of breath and closed his eyes before Hawke continued. “Goodness, listen to me. I’m starting to sound like Mother.”

“Funny, I don't remember Leandra’s voice being so gruff,” Varric smirked, unable to resist the obvious joke despite the circumstances.

“I love my Mother, but she wasn’t always the most open-minded person,” Hawke grimaced. “She wasn’t exactly supportive when I told her about Merille.” Varric’s eyes widened in shock.

“You never told me about that.”

“I knew she would come around eventually. Even if she didn’t, it wouldn’t have stopped me telling Merille how I felt. Now though, I can't help but feel like her… at least, I think this is how she felt.”

“Feel like what!?” Varric raised his voice, causing Hawke to flinch and turn away towards the mountains. He walked up to the edge and looked out to the neverending expanse. 

“When I look at Herah, I see someone stronger than me. I see a powerful, regal figure. Someone born to be a leader. I respect her, Varric, don’t mistake that. I actually like her, truly. When I see you two together though, I struggle to see straight. I see…”

“What do you see Hawke?” Varric asked, barely a whisper.

“I see fire. I hear screams and war cries. I don’t know why, but I always think about THAT day.”

Varric didn’t need to hear anymore. He wanted to be angry, he wanted to rant and tell Hawke off, but he’d be a hypocrite for it. He had seen the same thing more times than he’d care to think about. His stomach churned, and the familiar feeling of bile rising up his throat struck Varric suddenly. He resisted the urge to vomit and joined Hawke over by the wall. Again, as if it had developed its own particular sound, silence at Skyhold reigned. The two simply looked at the snowy peaks for several minutes before Hawke dared to speak again.

“It’s always when it’s you. I guess when I think about it, I haven’t seen a Qunari, and I mean a proper Qunari, since I came to Skyhold. I haven’t felt like this since I saw you two together, and now it feels like a poison trying to consume me. I get groggy, a little angry, and I just don't know what to do with myself. Maybe I do have a prejudice. I spent so long trying to stop a shitstorm brewing because of the Qunari, and in the end there was nothing I could do to prevent it. I-”

“Hawke, stop,” Varric breathed out weakly. “I get it. Just… she’s the first good… no, great thing to happen to me in so long. I can't-” Varric stopped for a moment, working his jaw before finally speaking. “Where do we stand?”

“I-I don’t know,” Hawke shakily replied. “I think we both need some time to think. I’ll tell you one thing, Varric.” Hawke lightly touched Varric’s shoulders and turned him to look in his eyes. “You’re always gonna be my friend. I’m not gonna lose you because of this.”

“You’ve gone soft, Hawke,” Varric said with a smirk.

“Wasn’t I always?” Hawke smiled for a moment, but it vanished as he turned around and departed. He quickened his pace to his usual spot, where Loghain would likely be waiting. Varric was left on top of the battlement all alone, and when earlier he desired his space, he now craved company. Anyone to fill the suffocating silence that had become all too familiar as of late. He sighed heavily and turned to face the mountains once more.

What could be said? What could be done? Should he do anything at all? The Qunari invasion of Kirkwall had affected both men in ways they could not have predicted, and its effects had only now emerged all these years later. Varric knew one thing for sure. If he is unable to let go of the memories whenever he looked at Herah, then maybe they had no future at all.


End file.
